


the fixed, the broken

by sardothien



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Canon - Manga, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 08:38:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2766707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sardothien/pseuds/sardothien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>somehow, suga's apologies are a thousand times worse than anyone else's. (daisuga; canon fic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the fixed, the broken

**Author's Note:**

> welp first hq fic... please excuse the lapslock!

daichi finds him sitting, glassy-eyed, in the club room. he's holding the broom that asahi broke in both hands, doesn't move when he sits down next to him.

"i'm sorry."

he says it with conviction, like it was truth. somehow, suga's apologies are a thousand times worse than anyone else's, because he says them like he's apologizing for all the mistakes that weren't his, for a lifetime of wrongs he could have never possibly committed. suga doesn't sound like he's been crying, and even after three years of playing on the same team, daichi's still struck by how he always manages to keep it together.

for the past few practices, he'd thought that maybe something had changed. that maybe his vice captain cheered a little louder, hit a little harder, served a little faster. other times, he'd find him in the bathroom by himself with head hanging low into the sink, guilt and blame and frustration coloring the air around him, affecting his plays, tainting his game, a shadow of the setter they used to have, a ghost.

it wasn't hard to figure out. daichi could see it in his eyes when they scored, in his tears when they lost, in the sweat that dampened his hairline. daichi felt it too: the keen loss of their two best players, so needlessly gone—just like that.

_just because something's broken doesn't mean it can't be fixed._

the words had fallen out of his mouth when hinata pointed the broom out. daichi didn't have to turn around to see the shame darkening suga's eyes, the way he held the pieces of the handle together as if they were pieces of his own heart.

suga sits there now, these bits of wreckage in his hands, splinters and shards of a karasuno that seemed, somehow, both long gone and up for grabs. it was the karasuno that they both grew up with, the karasuno that would never resurface again.

"don't apologize," daichi says quietly. "it's not your fault."

his shoulders start shaking, and it takes him a second to realize that suga is _laughing_.

"i'm being stupid, aren't i daichi?" suga smiles down sadly at the broom. "it was never about me, after all."

"of course not." daichi's been karasuno's captain for a year now, but after all this time he's still not sure of where he stands with suga, his best friend, his teammate. "what happened with noya and asahi was never your fault."

the vice captain looks up at him with a shaky laugh. "even so.... i can't get over the fact that i may never toss to asahi again. is this what being dumped feels like? somehow, i can't accept it."

the silence stretches long and tense in between them, a iron-hot ball of conviction tightening painfully in daichi's chest. "you can still toss to hinata."

suga shakes his head. "hinata has kageyama for that, now. i'll never be able to match that speed. it's like... they're made for each other. they balance each other out."

this sense of righteousness, the feeling that he's grasping at something that's long fallen away—why was it all too familiar? daichi had never been good at comfort, preferring to use his experience and control to guide the team. soft-talking had always been the expertise of their setter, the gentle pats on the back and the encouraging smiles. it wasn't fair, seeing suga like this, always so keen on taking care of the other teammates, their elbow scrapes and self-esteem meltdowns, only to fall apart out of sight. daichi's heart is a heavy gong in his ribcage.

"maybe so," he says quietly. "but there's also tanaka. there's..... me."

"it won't be the same," suga whispers.

_it will never be the same._

no one has to say it, but the truth of the implication hangs over them like a noose. there was simply no going back. karasuno was surging forward like a tidal wave—daichi only hoped that suga wouldn't get caught in the under currents.

suga doesn't make any move to stand when daichi finally gets up to leave. the air in the room is thick with sweat and bad memories—a churning maelstrom of too much vindication and not enough pride.

this is how daichi leaves him. he can't bring himself to turn around.


End file.
